The forgettable debut of New York shamus Chico Santana.
Kirk Atlas is on his way to fame. He just shot a salad-dressing commercial, and now that he’s in the money, he wants Chico to find his teenaged cousin Tiffany, a half-Chinese, half-Cuban bottle blonde who’s gone missing. Tiffany’s father Samuel is the brains at HMD Financial. His brother Benjamin’s fatal heroin overdose two months ago may be the reason Tiffany scampered. Why then does a girl named Pilar offer Chico money not to return Tiffany to her cousin? Chico’s snooping turns up not only Tiffany, but Irving Goldberg Jones, who’s written a story about a man forced to overdose on heroin. He also learns that there’s a sex tape floating around. Maybe it’ll tie all the bits and pieces together, maybe not. More will die, more family secrets will be uncovered, and Chico will have to sift through competing confessions as a small army of Bronx cops rush in. When it’s all over, there’s nothing left for Chico but to swap lame wisecracks with a couple of pals.
It’s all been done before and better. The plot is so-so, but the repartee is awful.